


Yin & Yang

by Animalceramics



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alex plays that body like a grand piano, Alex-centric, Anal Fingering, Dominance, Hand & Finger Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Max has the rug pulled from under him, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Power Play, Switching, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 10:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21298325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animalceramics/pseuds/Animalceramics
Summary: Inspired by the Red Bull 'Grill the Grid' bell challenge. Features Alex's hands a lot and well, nipples.Team dynamics but with sex. A Red Bull power play.
Relationships: Alexander Albon/Max Verstappen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Yin & Yang

**Author's Note:**

> The result of combining a Red Bull video, ancient Chinese philosophy and horniness. 
> 
> But for real, I like thinking about relationship dynamics and some thoughts about yin and yang that helped inspire this:  
Two sides that transform each other: The relationship between yin and yang is often described in terms of sunlight playing over a mountain and a valley. Seemingly opposite or contrary forces may actually be complementary, interconnected, and interdependent in the natural world, and how they may give rise to each other as they interrelate to one another.

An odd post-sex restlessness simmers in Alex. He’s keyed up and fucked out at the same time. He looks across at Max conked out on the bed next to him, arms thrown wide, legs splayed, the steady deep rise and fall of his chest punctuated by occasional grunts. He envies Max’s ability to fuck hungrily, desperately, hard and fast and then casually roll over, self-satisfied, to drop off to sleep.

Though physically sated, Alex can’t quite calm his mind, adrenaline still buzzing through his body. He realises he’s been drumming his fingers on his thigh, so decides to get his phone to give his fingers something to do. He leans out of bed to reach for his jeans, crumpled on the floor where Max had practically ripped them off him, and slides the phone out of the pocket.

He’s on Instagram, scrolling mindlessly, when he cringes, seeing his own face. It’s one of the new Red Bull videos, the 'Grill The Grid' one, and he scrolls quickly past. Later he comes across it again, but this time somebody made a split screen comparison of him and Max both pressing the bell. He sees his own hands delicately reach and hesitantly press the bell whereas Max full on smashes his hand down on it, laughing. The GIF silently replays, and Alex, not sure why, gets lost studying his own tentative touch versus Max’s, the actions typifying the opposing nature of their personalities and perhaps the strange way they balance out.

Shaking his head, he locks the phone, putting it away on the side table and turning his head to look at Max. His eyes travel the the topography of his torso and pale chest. Alex’s gaze is the warm sunlight moving over dark valleys and bright mountains. He feels the phantom sensation on his own body, when his eyes reach the sleeping man’s strong shoulders and biceps, savouring the recent memory of that heavy grip, holding him firm and strong against this very bed. He considers them now, those rough, eager hands, the ones that dart out in the video to strike the bell, and then later, pushed Alex to his knees.

Max is demanding, fast and aggressive, whereas Alex considers himself to be guarded and more subtle, but equally determined. There's the yin and yang he feels in his own being too; he’s a nice guy but also someone who’s dealt with some shit, taken some knocks and come back stronger, more determined to succeed and fight once more to keep everything he’s earned. Alex long ago recognised and embraced the opposing forces in him as complimentary and interconnected, one needing the other to maintain his equilibrium.

Unlike him, Max always seems to carry himself with that hard-solid edge. Even with these stupid PR videos, Alex can always feel that tension just under the surface with Max, the boredom, his patience wearing thin. It’s there in the sarcastic answers, defiant ill-advised arrogance in the press conference ('_Did it look like I lifted?_'), his aggressive driving and, yes, even in the stupid bell video.

When they’re together, Alex finds himself naturally balancing this energy, a buffer absorbing the sharp edges, rounding them off slightly. For the public, he’s a circus master to a barely tamed lion, able to coax him through a hoop or two to please the crowd. When they’re alone he’s the sandy shoreline absorbing wave after stormy wave, grateful for it, needing its renewing energy to feed and replenish himself, push himself on, the two of them repeating the ebb and flow over and again.

Alex envies Max really, the effortless arrogance, purely taking what you need, indifferent to pleasing anyone but himself. When Alex is out of the car, he finds it hard sometimes to sleep, to stop. He’s burdened by all the people he must impress, the never ending need to prove himself, do more, be better, _be as good_. It’s maddening this inability to take control and resolve things for himself, be his own man, instead of waiting for other people to determine his future, not knowing when he’s done enough, when he can relax and just be.

And that’s why he loves the actual driving part so much. The hesitancy, awkwardness and uncertainty just fall away when he’s in the car. He’s in control, assertive and skilful at finding the limit, willing to take the risks, pushing and fighting hard. But then it’s over, the race is finished and he’s back to overthinking, over-analysing - or having it done for him - because where Max is celebrated and revered, he's criticised and undermined.

He wishes he could shut his mind off and fall into the same deep slumber Max does.

He remembers the first time they did this, after Japan. He’d found Max, as expected, shut away in his driver’s room seething, the lion dangerously still, ready to roar, pounce, gnash his teeth and sink them in at the slightest provocation. This is where Max’s family, trainer, physio and engineer dare not tread, but because Alex was the caring sensitive new guy, he dutifully took himself to Max’s door, a willing lamb to the slaughter. To do what? Commiserate? Make sure Max is ‘okay’, talk him down from the edge of his own arrogant rage, offer himself up as ballast?

Taking a deep breath as Max opened the door, his expression thunderous, Alex had gently placed his hand on Max’s shoulder, caring,_ fraternal_, his words tripping over themselves to get out, ‘Err, sorry about the result mate, you okay? I just wan-’

Max’s body flinched under his touch, head slowly turning to look at the hand on his shoulder, then back along it, up to Alex’s face, expression menacing. Alex froze, realising he’d badly misjudged this. Max in turn raised his own arm, to place his hand on Alex’s shoulder, equal and opposite in posture, but instead of a warm, reassuring touch, this was a painful hard claw grip.

‘What Alex? You think I’m sad? You think _you_ need to look out for _me?_’ He scoffed, tightening the grip further, nails digging into Alex’s shoulder, hurting.

Alex was stupefied, frozen in place.

Max looked Alex’s body up and down predatorially, and in spite of his momentary shock, the intent was clear for Alex to read; Max unsubtle as always.

Max then used that painful grasp to yank Alex forward, causing him to stumble, wrong-footed entirely. Leaning up into Alex’s face, Max snarled, quiet but with bite, ‘You care so much Alex? You want to make me 'feel better'? Come see me tonight, not here.’ Then with that same right hand on his shoulder, Max pushed him back, flashing him a look that made Alex shudder, before slamming the door in his face.

  
So, Alex found himself outside a hotel door that night, reactive as ever to Max's impetus. He took a moment to compose himself, knowing very well why he was there, knowing what was expected of him, happy and willing as always to give. He extended his long fingers slowly, reaching out to knock; one, two quick taps with his right index finger.

Max had opened the door and stepped aside swiftly, allowing Alex to walk inside. Closing the door behind him and turning around, Alex quickly moved to close the gap between them, confident in the challenge he'd seen in Max's eyes, confident he could rise to it. He was gentle, lowering his head down to lightly brush his lips against Max’s forehead, then to his jaw, inching towards Max’s lips slowly, making sure to give the other man time to back out if needed. With horror, he realised Max wasn't responding and paused. He hears the younger man snort dismissively then feels him pull away.

Embarrassed and panicking, Alex takes a step back, only for Max’s hand to quickly grip the back of his neck, pulling his head down and holding it firm. Alex bends his knees, crouching awkwardly to ease the painful contortion, bringing them to the same height. Max’s hand grapples higher, to pull at Alex's hair, tipping his head back and making his mouth part. At once Max is on him hungrily, tongue forcing itself into Alex's mouth, devouring and overwhelming.

And that’s how their relationship transformed. Instead of cajoling Max with jokes and banter, he did it with his body, giving himself willingly to Max, to use him, fuck out the frustration, the triumph, the boredom, whatever he needed. Which brings him to this, lying restless next to Max, replaying the last couple of hours in his head. He knew that when he accepted this invite - because in spite of everything, it was always an invite, a choice he made - that Max would fuck him senseless, which was stupid, given he had to race tomorrow, but as ever, he’s unable and unwilling to resist the force of nature that is Max.

His eyes drift back to Max’s sleeping body, the pale skin of slim hips just visible above the bed sheet. Whereas Max uses his fast firm hands to pin Alex’s hips down, branding his skin the deep blue of their team colours, instead Alex thinks he'd trace his own slender fingers over Max’s skin lightly, soothing, kissing, licking. Letting his mind play out the scene, he feels his own cock starting to harden again unexpectedly. Without expectation or intent, he flows with his thoughts, moving instinctively and bringing his hand under the covers to trail those long gentle fingers down his own torso and then lower, finger tips running through pubic hair then tracing the still hardening shaft of his dick. It's light and teasing; the way he touches himself so different to the way he relishes Max touching him.

Stroking himself slowly, he looks once more at Max’s exposed chest, captivated by his incongruently vulnerable pink nipples. Alex has never really touched Max there, not like he would a woman, lingering, teasing, playing with the it. He looks to his own chest, seeing his darker nipples, goose bumps forming on his skin as his arousal increases.

His mind drifts once more to the bell video; his own calm touch, one finger delicately and deliberately pushing the bell. So he moves his hands back up and pushes that same single finger slowly against his hard nipple, like for like. The sensation shoots straight to his cock and he’s amazed by the intense surge of arousal he feels from just that simple touch. It causes him to utter an involuntary moan and he moves his head quickly to look at Max, but the other man continues to sleep soundly. Curious now, he brings a thumb to join his index finger, pinching at the nipple, eyes still on Max. Soft then hard. It’s intoxicating, both the pleasure and then the slight pain, but also the illicit thrill of getting himself off next to Max’s sleeping body, complicit but unknowing.

Alex alternates the intensity of touch between his two nipples, a soft touch followed by a harder nip. Emboldened, he rolls over to face Max’s sleeping body fully. Exhaling a shuddering breath, he reaches out to let his hand ghost over Max's body, slow and delicate in a way he knows Max, were he awake, would never tolerate, or at least not for long. Studying Max’s face closely he lets the tips of his fingers just lightly touch. They trace the muscles over Max's stocky torso, the firm pectorals, deltoid and biceps. The younger man starts to stir, blinking his eyes open, and Alex, keen to touch where he most wants before this is over, seeks out an enticing pink nipple. Meeting Max’s blue eyes, as his lashes flutter open, Alex lets himself touch, and it’s once again just the gentle soft _tap_ he’d given the bell.

‘Alex?’ Max says gruffly, ‘What are you –'

Cutting him off, Alex starts to squeeze, alternating the pressure, as he’d done with himself.

‘What the fuck?’ Max begins again, stretching his neck to look at what Alex is doing, his expression unimpressed and irritated, a familiar arrogant expression on his features as if to say, ‘Yeah, so now what?’ So, in answer and without breaking eye contact, Alex _transforms_, turns his fingers inwards, trapping the hardening bud between his two nails and pinches viciously.

Where he was soft, now he is hard.

Max immediately stops talking, eyes wide and body rigid. Alex isn’t sure what he expected, a fight, a throwaway condescending comment before Max pounces back? But what he didn’t expect was that dangerous body to fall limp and pliant.

Seizing the moment, Alex leans up onto his hands, moving his body across quickly until he’s straddling Max’s waist.

He can feel Max’s dick trapped between their bodies, half-hard already and so he grinds down, eliciting a deep groan from both of them.

Leaning over Max, he once again seeks out the pleasing sensation of a hardening nipple, except now with his tongue. It's just a fleeting contact though before he pulls off to posture over his supplicant rival. He sticks his tongue out, long and provocative, for Max to see, before bending to lick again, more thoroughly now, claiming one side of Max’s chest and then the other. Alex is soon lost in it, delicate kitten licks become rougher, faster, now lapping at Max’s chest like he’s starving for it, tongue rough like a panther working to tear away the skin and get at the flesh. He’s moaning, chin glistening, rubbing his cheeks over Max’s now very wet chest and up to his neck, mouthing at the soft skin there. Max turns his head to the side, yielding to it - a catalyst for Alex - who now attacks with greater fervour, sucking and biting, all the while grinding down on Max, causing the younger man to snarl and push back roughly.

Alex realises Max is trying to get his own hand between them, straining presumably to get his greedy hands on himself. Shutting him down, Alex squeezes his thighs harder, trapping Max’s hands to his side. He then sits back proudly on his heels, revelling in Max’s wrecked expression, his red sweaty face, angry eyes flashing furious. As their eyes lock, Alex smiles slow and victorious, causing Max - proud and defiant even now - to look away snorting. Max can't look away from Alex's body though, there's nowhere else to go, the bigger man dominant and filling his field of vision while he renders him immobile. His eyes settle on Alex’s cock, standing proud and demanding right at Max’s eye level. Alex shuffles up closer, confronting him with more of it, until Max can almost crane his neck to lick, to taste, should he want to. And it certainly looks like he does, eyes narrowing as a drop of pre-come beads at the tip.

Max bites down on his own lip instead.

Enjoying and indulging Max’s narrowly focused attention, Alex moves a single finger to smear the liquid slowly over the head of his own cock, moaning softly at the sensation. He waits for Max to tear his eyes away and make eye contact again, which he does imploringly. In answer, Alex smiles and brings the wet finger to his mouth and sucks it. He then makes a show of once more extending his tongue and licking his palm, once, twice. Smiling at the breathy ‘Fuck’ Max exhales, he brings the wet hand back down, spreading that wetness in a smooth slow glide - up and down, up and down - on his own cock.

Max is shaking under him now and Alex doesn’t know if it’s with desire or rage and smiles wickedly hoping it’s both. He’s torturing them both now with the deliberate slow slide of his hand.

Finally, unable to take it any longer, Max gathers his strength and shoves Alex up and off him, reaching down and fisting his own leaking erection hard and fast. Groaning and closing his eyes tight, Max gets to work.

At this indiscipline, Alex finally speaks, his voice hoarse but authoritative, ‘Max, stop!' and then more gently, 'Let me. I want to touch you.’

Once more, Max obeys, perhaps surprised to see and hear Alex taking the lead between them here, curious and intrigued by the new dynamic.

‘You need to fucking hurry up then!’ He demands.

Alex recognises well the expression on Max’s face, the younger man having worn it when he led Alex here hours earlier; hungry, confident, entitled. When he’d first got Alex naked and supplicant on this bed, Max had deftly reached under the pillow for the little blue bottle he'd obviously placed there earlier, and Alex realised then exactly how much he'd been the gazelle stumbling into the lion’s den, Max knowing exactly what he was doing and how to get Alex just where he wanted. Spurred on by that memory, Alex flashes his own sharp teeth, and reaches for the discarded bottle. He deeply savours the moment Max’s eyes widen in surprise at the sound of it clicking open.

‘What are you –' Max starts.

‘Relax,’ Alex says in that soothing voice he uses to placate Max’s periodic temper tantrums, ‘I just want to –' and he holds up two of those long dexterous fingers, pouring out a generous amount of the lubricant and rubbing it between them.

There’s a raised eyebrow from Alex as he looks to Max for a response, a clear challenge thrown down, certain in the fact that Max will never back down, cannot back down.

‘Do it,’ Max snaps, eyes black with lust, as he draws his knees up, spreading his thick thighs, raising the stakes further. He’s all in now and wants to see what Alex has got left.

Alex takes a moment to breathe, feeling overwhelmed but exhilarated, he and Max feeding off each other, pushing and pulling as always. He presses the wet pad of his middle finger against Max, rubbing slowly, cautious.

‘Fuck Alex, come on.’ 

In his own time, Alex eases in a long finger, slow and precise, studying Max’s face, reading his wild expression. Eventually he adds the second finger, establishing a steady rhythm, in and out, slow for a time then faster; slow, fast, slow. Max whines for it, pushing himself back against Alex’s fingers.

Max is soon writhing, spitting out a steady stream of expletives, then a moaned; ‘I’m close.’ He takes his own cock in hand again, chasing his climax desperately.

Alex immediately stops; fingers of one hand stilling where they're inside Max while moving the other hand fast to roughly knock away Max's clumsy fist on his dick to replace it with his own. But where Max's grip was urgent and frantic, Alex's is solid and still, a firm squeeze at the base, holding Max back right on the precipice.

Max thrashes again, fighting hard everywhere, trying to push down against and into Alex's dual touch.

Alex orchestrates his movements carefully; keeps the hand on Max’s cock static while he slowly extends and curls the fingers in his body, exploring gently until he feels Max’s prostate. He rubs against it softly while keeping the grip on his dick mercilessly hard. A few moments of that and then he stops and alternates it; the fingers inside stilling, though resting lightly against the gland, while he starts to work his left hand up Max's erection, rolling his wrist then bringing it back down. 

Max cries out, ‘Alex, it’s too much. I can’t. Please!’

So, Alex finally lets it converge, lets him have both simultaneously, it taking only a couple of strokes before Max splinters apart underneath him.

Removing his hands from Max, turning away and placing them both firmly palm down on the bed to ground himself, Alex looks between the two hands and visualises it clearly; the two sides of himself, hard and soft, supine and aggressive.

He sighs, feeling content and relaxed now, knowing the equilibrium of his own yin and yang is restored.


End file.
